


What Lies Within

by LilyK



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-11-30 12:37:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11463753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: Doyle finally marries.





	What Lies Within

  
_What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us._  
\--Ralph Waldo Emerson—

Doyle fidgeted under the competent hands of George Cowley. He closed his eyes and struggled to be still in spite of his nervousness, letting Cowley's fingers move as they wished. Down and around. Tug and pull. Twist and press. Doyle clenched his hands and let out a loud sigh. Finally! After days and weeks and years of wondering and thinking and planning. Years of second-guessing himself and second-guessing the man he loved, today marked "The End". Actually, he reckoned with a little chuckle, it was really a beginning. A welcomed start to his new life.

When Doyle opened his eyes, he couldn't help but grin at his companion. "Finally here, eh?"

"Stand still. God, laddie, but the ants in your trousers are doing the tango." Cowley tempered his terse tone with a smile.

Doyle reached out and wrapped a hand around Cowley's wrist, halting the slightly trembling hand. "It'll be all right. **We'll** be all right. Trust me. Trust us. "

Cowley shook his head and let out his own sigh that was tinged with clear exasperation. "I know you'll be fine. Still, it's a huge step, even in this day and age. It's not that I don't trust you, 4.5-"

"Doyle. Or Ray. I'm not 4.5, and haven't been for a good while now. And besides, after all this time, I thought we were friends." Doyle paused before he asked, "We are friends, aren't we?"

"Of course we're friends! You needn't ask."

"I'll do my best to make this work. I swear. I'll never let you down," Doyle said firmly.

"As I was saying, Doyle, I trust you. It's this world we live in that I fear will harm you. But you're a grown man and you've made your decision. And I pray with all my soul that it will go well for many years to come." Cowley scrutinised Doyle closely before he gave the silk bow tie a final tug. "There. Perfect."

Walking to the bureau mirror, Doyle eyed the tie critically before he gave the rest of his dinner jacket a careful going-over. "This'll have to do," he said, smoothing a hand down the sleeve.

"Don't be daft, man. You're a fine looking lad. It will more than do." Cowley came up behind Doyle and held out the small jewel box.

Doyle glanced in the mirror and his gaze latched onto the black case. "I'm finally getting married. Not married I suppose, but -- what? Bonded? Pledged?" He smiled. "I like that. Sounds permanent. Sounds fulfilling. I pledge myself to you..." he quoted, remembering what he'd written only two days before. Then he laughed. "I **am** being a bit daft, I suppose."

"That you are, but today, I think you're entitled. Put this in your pocket. Wouldn't do to have them misplaced on this auspicious occasion."

With a smile, Doyle pocketed the box. "Mr Cowley... George, thanks."

"You always were the sentimental one, 4.5."

"Do I have to keep reminding you that I gave all that up more than a few years ago?"

"You'll always be 4.5 to me, son. Think of it as a term of affection. Wouldn't do to call you sweetheart, now, would it?"

Doyle turned, laughing lightly, and leaned on the bureau, crossing his arms. "Eyebrows would rise to the heavens. I'm the sentimental one? Thought I was tough as old boots." He smiled and waggled his own eyebrows.

Cowley smiled as well, but then he turned serious, his gaze holding Doyle's for a long moment before he said, "Bodie was the one who needed more from me. You know that, don't you? If you think I preferred him -- not that I did, mind -- you know it wasn't against you in any way. Rather the opposite, but he was the one whose heart needed reassurance. He's the one who I felt needed the guidance. You've been nothing but independent and strong since the minute I recruited you onto my Squad."

"Bodie was strong and independent as well. For years I thought he had ice water in his veins. Even when we were best mates, he still kept me outside his boundary rope for a long time."

"He was hiding everything, Doyle. Look at how he was with you. How long did it take? Eight years?"

"Eight years, four months and six days, but who's counting?" Doyle paused before he admitted, "Wasn't how I felt. Back then, you know. Mostly in the beginning of our partnership. Felt... second best at times when you were dressing me down."

"Nonsense. You were my first pick. You were my best, and you brought out the best in Bodie." Cowley reached out and patted Doyle's arm. "I was always proud of you, and I still am. But now it's time we find our way. Your other half will be pacing a hole in the carpeting."

"I'm nervous," Doyle admitted.

"Aye. But you'll not be sorry you're taking this step."

"No," Doyle said softly. "Never sorry. Never will regret doing this. It's the best thing I've ever done. And I appreciate your understanding."

"Ach, I always knew I'd never marry, but I don't begrudge you the fulfilment of that sort of dream. Of course, it's still frowned upon, what the two of you have. But I've always hated prejudice of any kind. Did you think this would be the exception?" At Doyle's head shake, Cowley said, "Come on, then."

"Did you bring your lines?"

"No need. I might be old, but the memory's still sharp." Cowley tapped a finger against the side of his own head, making Doyle laugh as he clamped a hand on his former boss's shoulder.

"That it is. Bodie and I couldn't have asked for a better friend to read our vows with us. Might not be the legal sort, but having you give us your blessing counts even more."

"We'd better hurry. We'll be late, and if I know Bodie..." Cowley gathered up his woollen coat and opened the front door while Doyle set the alarms and locked up behind him.

"I do know Bodie," Doyle said as they walked side by side down the pavement to his car. "Quite well, I might add. And that champagne that's on ice? If we don't hurry, he'll have already started the celebration without me." He opened the car door for his friend. "And God only knows what he's doing to the food our mates have laid out, not to mention a towering chocolate cake with custard filling that I happen to know Murphy's wife is making."

"Then step on it. My throat is parched from the 'father and son' we just had."

Doyle started the motor and pulled out onto the street. Shifting into second, then third, he glanced over at Cowley. "Ta for the advice, Father."

Cowley tossed him a dangerous look. "Don't think for a moment, 4.5, that I don't know all the names you lot had used on me the past twenty years. It's a good thing I'm retired or you'd find yourself on report for insubordination. As it is, for your smart mouth, you can skip the champagne. You, laddie, owe at least a glass of the finest Scotch."

They laughed, and Doyle had to admit later that night, when he lay in bed with a very sated Bodie slumbering in his arms, that Cowley was on the right track. Pledging himself to Bodie in front of their friends and family was the third best thing that had ever happened to him. First, of course, was loving Bodie. Second was having Bodie love him in return. And he didn't need a fourth to die a happy man. But if he had to pick something, it would be meeting George Cowley, the person who had brought Bodie and him together.

Bodie snuffled in his sleep and shifted. Doyle's arm tightened and he kissed the top of the dark head. His partner settled after a few seconds and he smiled at the rightness of being with this man who shared his bed. As he drifted to sleep, the last thing he thought as that maybe he should move Cowley up to first place, after all.

The End


End file.
